Relive
by trascendenza
Summary: If Ennis could do it all over again, would he? Occurs after the ending of the original story.


**Author's Note: **This was written for my **fic-cd-album** Jack/Ennis claim on LiveJournal. Basically, you pick twelve songs to make a soundtrack and then write twelve fics inspired by them. The song that inspired this was _The Scarlet Tide_ by Alison Krauss (from the _Cold Mountain _soundtrack). The sub-headers of each section are excerpts of song lyrics.**_  
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* * *

**Re-live**

**_.well I recall his parting words_**

"See you tomorrow."

But you didn't see him tomorrow, or the day after that. Or the month, or years, or lifetime after that. The man who came to that campfire and put his arm around your neck was never brave enough to come forth again.

**_.must I accept his fate?_**

Drained, broken-down, forgotten. The worst part was the last—you could live with almost everything else. Had, as a matter of fact. But that one cut you in the place you only ever showed to one man.

He'd protected that place as long as he could, best way he knew how, but he wasn't here now, was he? And that was the long and short of it. _Can't be nowhere but where he is_. Never could, no matter how many different ways you asked or wanted.

A little late, but dying is really just life's last lesson, isn't it?

_**.or take myself far from this place?**_

You don't know why you went down there, or dragged her along. Hadn't had a reason to leave the ranch in over twenty, but here you were, feet dirtying up his doorstep.

Life in Texas sounded real spit-shining, the way he'd described it. Even had a spit-shining grandson, apparently. But when his widow broke down crying on seeing you, her hard face falling apart like an ice floe broken up at the riverbank, you don't rightly know if you should have cared about any of that.

You just wish he could have lived to see it.

**_.I thought I heard a black bell toll_**

Mourning shouldn't take practice. And, hell, if it did—you'd mourned before. You brought those flowers to your ma and pa's graves every year, at least what was left of them. You put them in your prayers the three times a year that you made them and even went to church occasionally.

You knew. Everything died.

You just didn't expect that the mourning could be worse than the dying.

**_.a little bird did sing_**

Wind's choked up in the valleys; you can hear it, struggling to get out and rage free in the meadows, pitch that euphoric keen that sings in your blood and brings you back up here every year. You haven't heard it in so long you're not sure, anymore, if this is the right place.

But when you lie in the grass, let the sun soak into your old bones and fall asleep just enough so that it's like you're sinking into the dirt, you know: this is the last place the two of you were alive.

**_.man has no choice when he wants everything_**

You greeted him with pity, at first, and then it grew into understanding, and finally, kinship. He understood you better than your husband, even your son, ever had, and the two of you never spoke a word about it. You just stood before that dried and lonely plot and listened to silence that let the two of you remember.

Five years, and you were ready. He took the rusted metal box with a ducked head and trembling hands, but no thanks beyond the one you knew he couldn't speak.

That was the way you wanted it.

**_.we'll rise above the scarlet tide_**

You went to Texas and made your case with a scratchy voice, probably unimpressive to her ears but she listened, keeping that sharp tongue of hers still until you'd gotten it all out. Her eyes knew too much and peeled your skin off bit by bit until you weren't a man, just the faded memory of one.

Her "no" was the final leg of a journey you knew you shouldn't have made.

**_.that trickles down through the mountain_**

You hadn't thought about the boy, but apparently he'd thought of you. He caught you on the way out and led you there, telling you a story about the mountain he'd visited only through his father's stories.

You closed your eyes and let his Texas-twanged vision of Brokeback fill your eyes, because it was better than tears.

**_.and separates the widow from the bride_**

Taffeta, a whole cloud of it, must have taken up half the attic. Couldn't figure why you'd kept it all this time, especially since you were fitting to get re-married in a few months, but maybe it was the way he'd pretended you looked good in it. Both of you knew that your mother's dress was the ugliest dress ever to see the light of day, much less four albums of wedding photos, but he hadn't even teased as he was prone to. He'd just smiled all day, and said you looked beautiful so many times you actually believed him.

Putting the top down over the yellowed fabric, you wait for Bobby to get back and tell it's done.

**_.man goes beyond his own decision_**

Wind's loosening, you think; ears aren't as trustworthy as they used to be, and you hardly slept a wink last night, so the soil calls to you. You lie with the urn cradled in one arm and the sun at your back. Sleep is peaceful.

_Don't be gettin ahead of yourself, cowboy. Proper time and proper place, all that_.

You leave with your burden, your comfort, still in hand. You've waited this long—what's another summer?

**_.gets caught up in the mechanism_**

They had so many questions you couldn't answer, so much that wasn't proper about what you were asking them. You kept calling, wouldn't leave it be, something you'd learned from him—one last time, you couldn't fail him now.

They got the hint after a few months and you got all their agreements, some begrudging, but that was all you needed.

**_.of swindlers who act like kings, and brokers who break everything_**

Weren't going, no way, no fucking how. Didn't care what Evelyn'd told him—she had no right. She'd crossed you one too many times and you'd show her what was what if she tried it again. The day came and she was quiet about it, so you figured she'd given up the crazy notion.

"Goin with or without you, John." She had the keys in hand and stood straight-backed, eyes burning like the fire of God.

**_.the dark of night was swiftly fading_**

"Almost dawn," Bobby said, inching the speedometer a little higher.

You didn't protest and opened the window of the truck to let in the scent of clean pine and bitter cold, your husband distilled into wilderness. Now you saw that you'd never lost him; he'd always been here.

**_.close to the dawn of day_**

"May God rest your soul, son."

"Lord have mercy."

"You never could leave good enough alone, could you, Jack? Hope you find some of what you were always lookin for out here."

"Miss, you, Daddy. Miss you real bad."

And it was your turn to step forward, to take a handful of the ashes and let them go. They all watched you, you knew, and you couldn't find it in you to care anymore. All that mattered was you'd done it for him.

"Ride those winds, Jack."

**_.why would I want him, just to lose him again?_**

You're alone. You slept out here, and the last handful sits in your palm, dawn calm.

You can't help thinking this is all you have left of him, that you don't want to let go. That maybe it was enough that the rest of them came out here and paid him the honor he deserved in life.

But lives don't get unlived, and your man wasn't a spirit to get broken.

The wind picks up and you don't clench your fingers, just watch the motes dance in the rising sun.

_Sorry to put you out so bad, friend. Never did want to be a trouble to nobody, least of all you._

You smile.

"Dawn's here, Jack. That's all that matters."


End file.
